When it Rains
by PenPatronus
Summary: Stiles' MRI results were a trick, but not a lie. Drama, friendship, bromance, featuring Scott and Stiles. Written after season 3 but before season 4.


**Summary**: Stiles' MRI results were a trick, but not a lie. Drama, friendship, bromance, featuring Scott and Stiles. Written after season 3 but before season 4.

**When it Rains**

PenPatronus

At 3am just outside the Beacon Hills reserve, three days after Allison Argent's funeral, Scott McCall stood on the side of the road waving at an approaching blue Jeep. Rain spit down on him, and a whole wave of water splashed him when Stiles skid to a stop in a mud puddle. Scott sighed, wiped the dirt off of his face and opened the passenger side door. "Sorry, dude," Stiles said, his eyebrows furrowed and his teeth clenched.

"Sorry about your seats." Scott flopped down, slammed the door shut and buckled himself in. He looked expectantly at Stiles. His best friend just stared back. "What?"

"I'm picking your ass up in the middle of the night and I don't even get an explanation?"

Scott scratched his thumbnail on the dashboard. "Isaac left me a note saying he was leaving town and I tracked him here. When I couldn't convince him to stay I gave him my bike and my cash and my coat and…" Scott shook his head. "And he left. He's gone."

Stiles' hands slid off the steering wheel and landed in his lap. "Why? I mean – I know he's upset about Allison, we are all but… Why?"

Paint flaked off beneath Scott's thumb and he flicked it at the floor. "He said he can't heal here. After everything that's happened – starting with his father, with Erica's death and now…" Scott sighed so hard that the windshield fogged. "He loved her."

"He was _in_ love with her?"

"And she was still in love with me," Scott whispered. "He can't stand to look at me now. And he thinks about how she died every time he sees—"

"Me." Stiles focused on rolling up his black button-down shirt sleeves and smoothing out his green tee. "I know, I know… it wasn't my fault, he can't help how he feels, blah blah blah…" Stiles' voice descended to a whisper. "Sometimes I catch Lydia staring at me with this look like she either wants to run away from me or claw my eyes out. Your mom won't look me in the eye, my dad's walking on ice like I'm about to snap…"

"I keep meaning to ask you," Scott said, "about the security cameras from the hospital. Did your dad get the footage to Danny?"

"Yeah. It took him all night but he erased me. Ninjas on a killing spree, lots of blood, but no Stiles."

"We need to be more careful. All of us. I can't believe he knew."

"I can. He's clever, our Danny-boy. And we don't exactly speak in code. Anyway, I'm in the clear unless one of the witnesses ID's me."

"ID's the demon," Scott corrected.

Stiles just stared out the window.

It was then that Scott noticed the suitcases in Stiles' backseat. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah. L.A., but just for a couple days. Dad and I are taking an 8am flight."

Scott turned in his seat so that he faced Stiles. "To see that doctor? Stiles, I think your dad's right about that MRI being just another trick. Mr. Argent agrees that—"

"They did the test again yesterday." Stiles said the words so fast that Scott almost missed them. "I didn't want – I didn't want to worry you guys. Lydia's mourning Allison and Aiden, and now you just lost another packmate…" Stiles pointed at the rain soaked road that Isaac took.

"What did the test show?"

Stiles' knuckles turned white as he squeezed the steering wheel. "I didn't even want to bother with another MRI. It was just a trick. Just a trick. But Dad insisted."

"_Stiles_." Scott gripped his best friend's shoulder and leaned in close.

"Atrophy!" Stiles snapped. "My pre-frontal cortex is deteriorating, all right? Not as bad – not nearly as bad as it looked. I think – my theory is – I think that the Nogitsune saw the beginnings of the disease in my brain and that gave him the idea to mimic my mother's full-blown dementia. It was a trick, Scott. But it wasn't a lie."

Scott sagged against his headrest. His head felt heavy but his limbs felt like they were floating. "So what does this mean?"

"A year. Maybe 18 months if I'm lucky. But look at the bright side: if that first MRI was true then I'd only have 6 months. Look at the brighter side: it's a freaking miracle I survived being possessed by a thousand-year-old Japanese fox demon. So, you know, every day is a gift…" Stiles sighed, "Or whatever bullshit cliché I'm supposed to say..."

Scott mentally redefined "overwhelmed" for the fifth time in three weeks. He didn't think that there was anything lower than rock bottom but that was just another supernatural thing he now believed in. A headache rammed into the nerves behind his eyes and Scott rubbed his eyelids with his fingers. "Then I'll bite you. I'll turn you. Let's go to Derek's so he can show me right now! You'll be healed, everything will be fine."

Light ricocheted off of the rearview mirror. A car went around them and disappeared into the rain. "Scott," Stiles whispered, "I know you can smell it."

Scott stiffened. "I don't know what you mean."

Stiles snorted. "Man, you're a lousy liar."

"Ok, ok your scent is… off. You smell different but why wouldn't you? You've been under a ton of stress. Not to mention, a demon vomited you up!"

The corner of Stiles' mouth twitched – a wink of a smile. "Kind of wish I could've seen that. Bet it was disgusting."

"So disgusting," Scott said. "Look, man, your body just needs to heal."

"What my body is right now is sick, Scott. I'm feeling better, sure. My color's fine. Well, maybe I stole some makeup from Lydia to conceal the black circles under my eyes… But I was possessed, Scotty. Who the hell knows what permanent damage that could do to me? There's a reason why I passed out in the hallway, Scott. There's a reason why, when the demon was destroyed, I wasn't instantly better like Deaton and my dad and your mom and everyone… If you bite me—"

"Don't say it."

"If you bite me when I'm this weak," Stiles continued, "I'll die."

Scott leaned his elbow against his window and tucked his lips in the space between his thumb and forefinger. He sat so silent and so still for so long that Stiles started to drive again. When he pulled into the McCall's driveway and parked, Scott suddenly hugged him. "We'll figure all this out," he whispered. "We'll fix this."

"Yeah."

"Text me when your plane lands."

"Yeah. Sorry about Isaac."

"Yeah." Scott held Stiles at arm's length. He gave a nod, a reassuring smile, and then jogged into the rain.

Stiles watched until he was sure that Scott was safely in the house. And then he whispered, again, "Sorry."

**The End**


End file.
